Rap beef

This rapper had come up to me in the city, ready to shove his mixtape in my face. i’ve always hated how they’ll walk up and say, “Yoooo! My man! You like hip-hop?” then try to guilt me into buying what looks like a blank CD for a “$5 donation.” what i hate most is that “My man! You like hip-hop?” as if they’re my friend who genuinely wants to talk about the history of the rap genre. the truth is they don’t actually give a shit. most of those mixtapes don’t even have songs on them. i’d bought a few when i was younger. they just want the $5. a lot of businesses do that. lure one as if THEY’RE doing ME a favor. life’s gotten ridiculous. i exist in a state of permanent confusion and every so often take my frustration out on sidewalk rappers. 

“Yo, you like hip-hop?” this rapper dude wore a bright yellow Lakers jersey even though we were in New York city. nah, i Know what this is. a cab honked. “Don’t assume.” i’m not assuming. I just know you’re gonna be like, ‘Oh, you want my mixtape? lemme autograph that for you. By the way, all I’m asking for a 5 dollar donation.’ “Nah, it’s not like that.” yeah, whatever man, fuck this and fuck you. as i was walking away, i heard him yell, “Yo, you dropped something!” part of me didn’t want to Look back because i Thought, if I did drop something, why would that guy, of all people, tell me? yet, underneath all my cynicism, i think there’s a side of me which believes it’s still possible for people to be nice to one another with no strings attached. 

but really he just said that to show me the finger.